


Vitae benefaria

by Almost_Star_Struck



Series: Serva me, servabo te. [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Difference, Blindness, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canonical Character Death, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Growing Old Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Please Don't Hate Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 19:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4071691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almost_Star_Struck/pseuds/Almost_Star_Struck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>20 years...</p><p>Time has not been kind to them both and soon it will be time to say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vitae benefaria

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, so sorry for all the mistakes. I have never written these two before so sorry if they seem out of character or there are abrupt mood swings. Basically just wanted to have them facing the idea of Bull's mortality since he is significantly older and way more war-torn physically. 
> 
> Dunno if I will continue this. Just wanted some sadness and fluff.

If nothing else had changed over the last twenty years, it’s that Ferelden winters were still as cold as a Chantry Mother’s stare.

Dorian could only shiver as he stacked the logs in the fireplace, using his magic to urge the flames higher against the metal grate. “Don’t overdo it,” a gravelly voice warned behind the mage, “We should have enough left for the season if we ration them well enough.” Dorian exhaled and moved back to the bed, slipping under the thick bear fur lining the mattress. He rubbed his face against the Qunari’s soft stomach and gave Iron Bull’s side a pinch.

“You should have chopped more,” Dorian murmured, sweeping a hand back through his hair, a thick swaft of white staining the dark brown strands. At nearly 50 years old, Dorian would say that he still cut a handsome face and figure.

Even if the years had left his skin more wrinkled and loose than he would like.

Bull smiled and said, “You said I needed to take it easy.” He stroked Dorian’s cheek as he closed his only eye, now glassed white with cataracts. The mage let Iron Bull trail his fingers over the bones of his jaw, tracing the face he knew so well. His own hand was against the Bull’s bad knee, using magic to heat his fingers and gently massage below the gnarled skin of the old wound. It had grown stiff and sore with age and it seemed to pain Bull all the more each time he stood from the bed.

The Qunari would never admit it, but he was slowing down. Decades of violence and bloodshed were finally catching up with his broken body.

“If you don’t take it easy then you won’t be walking at all, you big lummox.” He reached up, taking Bull by the horn and dragging him into a kiss. The Bull smiled against his mouth and pulled back, shrugging. Dorian rolled his eyes, snorting for good measure. The Bull’s ears twitched at the sound and the Qunari only smiled all the wider.

The fire crackled as it ate at the thick bark, several pieces flaking off and sending sparks flying against the sooty bricks. Dorian stretched and wrapped an arm around Bull's broad chest, feeling the larger man exhale underneath his palm. "We really should go North next winter. Perhaps Antiva," he said quietly, his fingers tracing over several burn scars that crossed over the Qunari's pectoral. "The grapes will be in season." He felt Bull's hand move up his spine and curl his two remaining fingers in Dorian's hair. "We could spend the entire winter drinking Antivan vintage and sunning across the Waking Sea." 

"You'll just bitch about how it's too hot, Kadan." 

Dorian pouted and Bull gave a warm chuckle that vibrated through his barrel chest. When the chuckles died down, Bull added, "Also, pretty sure the Crows still have a hit out for me from the last time."

"Oh that was _ages_ ago."

"Yeah, but the Crows are about as forgiving as they are forgetful. Kinda like the Ben-Hassrath in that regard." 

"Hmmmm, point taken."

They fell back into silence, Dorian's eyes glazed over as he soaked in Bull's warmth. Every winter they had added more furs to the bed and it never seemed enough unless Bull was in there with him. He took the Qunari's hand and massaged into the thick callused palm, some from their time spent on the battlefield, others from pulling a plow through their small patch of farmland South of Lake Calenhad. Out the frosted window, Dorian could see the distance Circle Spire twirling into the misty night. 

"Dorian?"

The mage blinked, "Mmmm?" he asked, not moving his head from the Bull's collarbone. 

"I've been thinking-"

"Oh dear _Maker_..."

Bull gave the mage a pointed look as best he could. Dorian huffed. "Proceed."

"I've been thinking," he began again, "I don't know how many more winters I have left in me." He tightened his grip in Dorian's silky hair before releasing it, stroking over the younger man's skull. Dorian frowned and closed his eyes. The topic had come up a few times in the past, especially during their days fighting for the Inquisition. Any fight could have been their last and they went in, prepared to risk themselves to restore order and peace to the region. 

But it didn't make the conversation any more pleasant.

"Do we need to discuss this now?" The mage asked quietly, his fingers gently tugging at a few stray chest hairs. He felt Bull heave a heavy sigh beneath him.

"Yes. I'll be past 70 in two seasons. It's something that we should be prepared for so when the time comes, you are...taken care of." He cupped Dorian's cheek, lifting the mage's chin. His thumb stroked over the small goatee as he inhaled the smell of smoke that always seemed to permeate Dorian's clothes. 

Dorian snorted and pulled away, " _Taken care of_ ," he repeated sourly. "I am not a helpless child." He lifted himself up a bit to sit straight, tugging the furs around his shoulders. Nevertheless, he still felt a distinctive chill. 

Sitting up as well, Bull pursed his lips. "You can't run the farm on your own, Kadan. You can't go back to Tevinter. The Inquisition is done and we have few friends to show for it." Even Krem and the Chargers...long gone onto their own lives over the years. His heart ached at the thought and he shook his head. Bull turned to Dorian with blind eyes, "I'd rather you not be alone."

**Alone.**

The word settled hard in Dorian's stomach. He was used to being on his own for so long, but that was decades ago. That was before he had this, had Iron Bull. The mage turned, staring out the window as the snow began to fall. No matter how cold the winters got, he had never had to sit through one on his own. His grip on the furs tightened and he stiffened as Bull curled up against his back, the Qunari carefully laying his chin against his shoulder, always mindful of his large horns. 

"I just want to know you will be ok, Dorian." He pressed a gently kiss to the human's throat, mouthing a bit over the pulse point. "More than ok if I can help it." 

The mage nodded and said, "I have given it some thought. Admittedly I've avoided it." He looked down at Bull's hands laying against his thighs. He drew a long sigh, "I was thinking of heading to Weisshaupt." He chuckled, "Go back to fighting demons and darkspawn until I don't miss you anymore." He paused, "Because I will miss you, Amatus." Iron Bull was wiping the tear away with his thumb and it was then that Dorian realized he was crying. He bit his lip, throat tight and hands clenched in the fur. 

"It's ok." The Qunari passed a hand down his side. "Work it out." He felt Dorian shudder against him and he nodded, "Work it out, Dorian."

Dorian shook his head, steeling himself as he straightened. "I'm fine. I was lost in thought for a moment." He cleared his throat, wishing his voice didn't sound so raspy. "I also thought of going to Orlais until I was reminded of Vivienne again." His lips curled, "It is probably the best option. After all, we could be poor old widows together. How cosy."

"Somehow I think she'd take offense at being called a widow."

"It's what she _is._ She never let go of that decrepit old count!"

"Hmmm, pretty sure he was a Duke."

" _Vishante kaffas_ , I don't give a damn!" Dorian growled. They were silent for a moment before the sudden break had Bull laughing and squeezing the mage's upper thigh. Dorian's shoulders slumped and he leaned back, " _Festis bei umo canavarum_..." he muttered, reaching down to cover Bull's hand with his. 

The Bull smiled and turned Dorian to face him, "Sorry," he said honestly. "Just trying to imagine you and Madame de Fer cosying up with your wine or tea and reminiscing about the good ol' days. She'd tell you about the time the Duke brought her flowers, you'd tell her about the time I fucked you against the wall and my horns got stuck in the wood panels." 

"Which time? The first time it happened or the other five?" Dorian retorted. It was obvious Bull was trying to steer him back to smoother waters. He was rather grateful for it, truth be told. Not that he would ever admit it. 

" _Five_ times? My memory must be going." Bull teased. He patted Dorian's leg. "Perhaps we should go for a _sixth?_ " He attempted to waggle his single eyebrow and Dorian found himself smiling genuinely. 

"How about we don't blow out your knee." He coaxed Bull to lay back and he straddled the older man's waist, furs still draped over his shoulders. 

Bull stared up at him with blind eyes, his hands on Dorian's hips. "Anything you want, Kadan," he whispered huskily. There was a hint of sadness to the Qunari's smile and Dorian leaned down, claiming Bull's lips in a deep kiss. An obvious but nonetheless wonderful distraction. 

Perhaps one day he would think of his life without this man at his side. 

But tonight, he _had_ him. 


End file.
